Broken Souls and Scattered Ashes
by Anduria Trianys
Summary: My first Dragon Prince/Dragon Star fanfic. After Andry's funeral, Chay says some things to him that he couldn't say while he was alive. Rated to be completely safe.


Broken Souls and Scattered Ashes

I always knew that mortals cannot live forever. I knew that one day the Goddess would summon Death to sweep us away beyond the swirling sands of the Desert, far away from our loved ones, somewhere we could rest in peace.

Peace. What peace is there for us left behind? My wife and I stand gazing upon the ashes of a pyre that was once the final resting place of a proud and strong man. That man was our son, our young child whom we were supposed to love and cherish

But we failed. We failed him; _I _failed him, simply because I couldn't make peace with who he was. I couldn't accept that he would one day become _faradhim. _The art of Sunrunning fascinated me, it is true, but at the same time it terrified me. After seeing my beloved Tobin almost become Shadow-lost, I struggled to find much that was good for our family. I wondered how I could possibly hope to understand, let alone accept, something that could bring about such danger. I couldn't, I told myself. I wouldn't.

And now I stand here and I am faced with the consequences of my narrow mind. The dark ashes stifle what few flames are still left on the pyre, just as a dark cloud seems to cover my wife. She had borne four sons from her womb and now only one still remains with us today. That Maarken still survives after such bitterness and bloodshed is something that the logical part of my mind knows we should take comfort in, but I can hardly bring myself to listen, not yet. In time, maybe there will come a day when I can take some comfort in the presence of Tobin and Maarken, but it is not now. Now, I must show my younger son the love I failed to show him when he was alive.

I wait until I am alone, Tobin having finally retreated indoors to grieve alone. Then, very slowly, I kneel in front of the pyre and gather a handful of ashes into my hands, holding them close to my heart. Suddenly, I can feel his presence near me; I can see his bright eyes shining, his young and childish face beaming at me…

But then the images fade and he becomes older; more hardened. I can barely look, but I know that I must. And now, for the first time, I see beyond the anger and I see the raw pain in those eyes. And it hurts. It pierces through every defence I ever erected and bursts into my heart, the feeling so raw and so harsh that I almost shatter, even as I struggle to stay upright.

As it is, my heart shatters as I remember exactly when it was that my son truly fell apart. I remember how he confronted the man who killed his twin, his kindred spirit. I could almost feel the anger and the power swirling off him as he performed the brutal acts, but I blinded myself to his pain, because of my fear of what he had become. I almost didn't want to believe that he was my son. It was because of that that I spurned the warnings he gave to me. I didn't want to hear them. I didn't want to be reminded of his terrible gift.

But now I see how wrong I was. Now that the poisonous fury has abated, I can see all too clearly what I was so blinded by before. I can see that he was doing what he believed to be right. For me…for Tobin…for Maarken…and for Sorin.

It would be all too easy to lay the blame with Rohan for his punishment. But I know that would be wrong. Far from simply wishing to let the dead rest in peace with no accusations, I know that the blame must, for the most part, be laid with me. I never took the time to understand him…to trust him…to _love _him. The only person who truly did that is gone.

Suddenly, the image changes in a swirl of colours and when I look up, I see my son again at the age he was when he died. He is smiling at me; his eyes are now alight in a way that they have not been for too long. His lips move slowly; I cannot hear the words, but the meaning is clear. He is forgiving me, granting me absolution – and begging me to let him go.

With a sigh, I walk around the pyre in a circle and blow the ashes from my hand, watching as they soar over the desert in a thick dark cloud before disappearing as the wind separates them into single specks and they are lost into the sunlight. As they disappear, I see the picture I have been watching finally fade, my son's face truly and utterly happy at last. Somewhere in the background, just before the face is lost in a myriad of colours, I think I see a familiar figure coming to join him and my heart lightens a little. He is finally with the one he loves the most.

Farewell, Andry, my beloved son. Now, you can finally rest in peace.


End file.
